As well as dragging my camera wielding buddy on a tour of photogenic places near my home, I dragged him to Bira circuit at the weekend to point lenses at nutters on racing bikes.
I had a bike once. It was a Honda, with a name that hinted at sex, speed and multiple orgasms. The reality was that you had to wear so many layers of clothing to go out on the thing in an Scottish winter that sex would have been logistically impossible; and at a mere 125cc, a dumpy rider swaddled in kilos of cloth made for a heavy load and a pedestrian speed. Still, it did vibrate a little so I suppose the orgasm thing might of been possible if you stayed on long enough. But Scottish winters made for black ice and I never stayed on long enough to get to the end of the road, let alone experience any activity in the genital area (you probably didn’t want to know that).
My ownership was therefore brief, but it did leave me with a healthy respect for those who choose to ride motorbikes in anger, and I am not talking about the guys who trundle round Pattaya on big chopper bikes wearing clothes with tassles and a badge on their back with the initials SPCC (Small Penis Compensation Club).
There seems to be a large collection of racing bikes in Thailand with few opportunities to race them. So every few months everyone turns up at Bira, pays 1,000 baht, and then spends the day thrashing their bike around the track.
Unlike real race meetings, you can stand pretty much anywhere to take photos; comforted in the knowledge that there is an ambulance at hand should the bike of your choice decide to give you a really close up view by driving into you.
Shots like this give you a nice angle on the bike; but if they slide off the corner rather than going round it, they are going to slide somewhere near where you are standing.
It happened to me once and I would like to report that I stood my ground, capturing stunning journalistic shots before leaping elegantly sideways just before the impact in a matadorial movement worthy of a small Spaniard in tight spangled trousers. But I didn’t. I dropped the camera and stood like a rabbit in the headlights before stumbling sideways making a series of “eek” noises.
I like getting unusual angles, one of which is a view down on the bikes, like this one:
My friend wanted to shoot the same view, so out came the (t)rusty steps, placed right next to the edge of the track, and up he went.
He lost his balance and fell backwards once. While watching him I realised that he only had to fall forwards once, at the wrong time and I would have to call his wife and have a very difficult conversation.
Well, I put a pair of steps next to a racetrack populated with novice riders on fast racing bikes, made him stand on the steps, and he just sort of fell forward in his excitement at being up there. Any chance I am mentioned in the will?
Fortunately he survived and we had a good couple of hours shooting. This was my favourite shot of the day, thanks to the titanium plates on the kneepads which provided a firework display in the corners. Titanium kneepads are banned on the tracks of most countries in the world, but in Thailand you can get away with almost anything; including making your friend perch on steps on the edge of a racetrack.
Comments 🔗
2008-06-12| Billy saysThe only reason your camera nut friend survived was that he used the ancient Javanese spell that requires the trousers to be firmly placed up the crack of one’s bum. Close inspection of the relevent photo will confirm the truth of what I say.
2008-06-13| Spike saysYou are too superstitious, ’tis merely the bum clench of fear.
2008-06-13| BumOwner saysIt is just an unfortunate crease
2008-06-13| Jock saysGreat photos … the word Bira attracted me … very similar to Italian Birra (Beer).
Still I learned something new - in 6 months of living in Jomtiem I never knew there was a racetrack nearby.